


Missing in the Middle

by Hasegawa



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Sherlock Holmes (Downey films)
Genre: Baby!Fic, Gen, Harry adopts Tom fic, steam punk style, time travel fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-14
Updated: 2013-04-01
Packaged: 2017-11-25 11:14:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/638303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hasegawa/pseuds/Hasegawa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by Master of Death by Esama. </p><p>Harry Potter was the workaholic auror for the century. Concerned by his health, he was assigned to a 'two weeks assignment in L.A. hotels and brothels' by his superior. However, the trip turned to be something else altogether, because he found himself in the middle of winter 1926. </p><p>And suddenly, he became a father of a newborn baby named Tom Marvolo Riddle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My first try on time turning, do it over, baby fic and Harry adopts Tom fic. 
> 
> I tried to inject as many humor as I can. Sorry for any grammar mistake. 
> 
> Unbetaed 
> 
> Enjoy!

Bloody hell.

 

He was standing in the middle of bloody nowhere. The buildings looked very unfamiliar unlike the pictures of L.A. casinos’ flashy lights, the snow telling him that he was in the wrong season compared to the supposedly hot temperature of California he was supposed to be in, and the stench around him was… utterly unbearable. Something that is unacceptable by society standard he was from (this kind of smell would illicit the worse complaint from surrounding citizen to the government, crying about stupidity and the misplaced of taxpayer’s money).

 

Harry Potter sighed. It always his fate, wasn’t it? Someone far above loved to play with his life. What was wrong with a nice, normal, boring life for a Harry Potter? No, no. There shall always be problems for the Bloody Fucking Harry Potter. His life was everything but boring or ordinary.

 

A minute ago he was in the departure longue of the international Portkey inside the Magical side of HeathrowAirport. His destination was L.A. It was a simple assignment from his department head, Kingsley Shacklebolt. His boss was apparently very worried over Harry, stating that the Boy-Who-Lived has started to become The Boy-Who-Lived-To-Work. Harry didn’t understand why he was called as workaholic, since he was nothing like one. True, he always brought work to home, but that was because every case was very important and pushing to finish. He also always tried his best for every case, and wouldn’t let himself sleep before he finished one perfectly. Hell, he didn’t need to eat or sleep sometimes—he was fine with the irregular lifestyle—the life with Dursley has trained him to overcome seventy hours without meal.

 

So, basically under the pretence of ‘assignment’, Harry was assigned to go to L.A., given a stack of galleons (about ten times his monthly wage—apparently since Harry had been pulling an all-nighter for the two-third of the last two years, the Ministry of Magic’s accounting department was bullied by Harry’s fellow aurors to give Harry a ‘sufficient compensation’ for this particular ‘assignment’), paid return ticket London-L.A., and a booked hotel room for two weeks. Shacklebolt also specified that Harry needed to ‘make sure that there was no suspicious being on that hotel’s areas, especially the swimming pool, the casino and the nightlife’. Harry should spend his time in those three places, preferably blending to his surrounding by gambling, reading PlayWizard magazines by the pool (while watching for anything suspicious, of course) and acted as a usual patron to nightlife clubs there.

 

Harry didn’t know how to reject the order, so he accepted it. He had told Ron and Hermione about it, and both of them looked like Christmas came early. _Finally,_ Hermione sobbed, _you are a desk no more!_ And ran to Harry’s flat through the floo. Ron was not overreacting like Hermione did, but he was still happy enough to hug Harry. _Good on you, mate,_ was what Ron said to him before Harry realized that Hermione had returned from Harry’s room with a well prepared (and Harry’s only one) suitcase.

 

 _“Everything you need is in here,”_ Hermione stated. _“Please do not worry over anything else; I am sure I had perfectly prepared everything in this suitcase. Now, off you go!”_

 

 _“My portkey is not until three hours from now,”_ Harry sighed half-heartedly. _“I still have time to burn.”_

 

 _“No, no.”_ Hermione shook her head. _“You need to go there three hours earlier the latest. You’ll never know what happened. Maybe you’ll get traffic jam and everything…”_

 

 _“We are wizards, Mione.”_ Ron smiled at his fiancée. _“We can apparate there.”_

 

Hermione blushed. _“Oh… Sorry, I was still in the muggle jet lag. My parents insisted I need to visit them via the muggle way last week.”_

 

They ended up having the last supper before Harry went away, which was ironically named now that Harry realized what happened to him. So yeah, back to the reality in front of him. it was in the middle of a harsh winter, with snow everywhere, people coated with thick clothing and he was in the middle of a unbearably smelly market. Luckily it was still noon in this place, so Harry took the initiative to cast a heating charm on himself and went to the nearest alley.

 

There he opened the suitcase—but it looked nothing like a suitcase. Instead, he had a black hole. Harry didn’t know what to do, so he inserted his hand into the hole, wishing for a winter coat. His hand caught something, and when he pulled it out, Harry found his old and well used knitted sweater. Well, that was better than nothing and Harry quickly put it on. But it was still bloody cold, even with the strong heating charm he had casted on himself, so he went to wish for another one. By the time he finished, he was wearing all his knitted clothes with a thick scarf. Bless Hermione to actually pack some warm clothes despite his destination being in L.A. and their famous beaches.

 

And then Harry Potter set out to the world he never known before.

 

* * *

 

 

It was just his luck to be send by a wrongly dated (and magically still impossible nevertheless happened) portkey experience, Harry mussed as he settled himself in a small house outside what he guessed to be London in 1920s. The exact date was 10 November 1926, courtesy from the posted announcement all over the city.

 

But he was nothing less of a workaholic; after three days of surveillance and watching his surrounding, he started to feel restless. He needed to do something; he knew that the pressing matter was to search the way back home to his proper timeline, yet since Harry was no researcher like Hermione, he knew that researching (especially with the current’s era’s knowledge) was futile. So instead, Harry focused on adapting the lifestyle. Harry had managed to find Diagon Alley and settled himself two blocks from there, in a small apartment above the shop, by the address 223 Baker Street.

He started with buying the necessaries and making his small house comfortable. That took a week time, and by the end of the week, the feeling of restlessness came back with vengeance.

 

So Harry started to wonder around London, curiously watching muggles’ steam engines and motor vehicles. Muggles were still wearing cape-like robes like the year 2000’s Wizarding’s fashion, and having a walking stick was acceptable for a gentleman (Harry immediately transformed his wand into a cane). He also rejoiced the fact that one galleon was equal to 100 sickles, and one sickle equals to 100 knuts. The currency rate was so good that even with his ‘compensation’ alone, Harry was sure he could let himself be jobless for the next five years and still considered himself to be a moderately comfortable. The inflation rate was small too, compared to the 2000s where he came from, so Harry spent his month week going around the place, watching how everything was done.   

 

* * *

 

It was really not his intention when one morning when Harry was contemplating what to do that day, he remembered about Voldemort. It was his scar. Suddenly it flared with familiar pain, something that Harry never had ever since he defeated Voldy ten years ago (and a good 82 years from then). Harry rubbed his forehead, wondering why his scar hurt. Then he saw the newspaper’s date. It was 23 December 1926, the month and year Tom Marvolo Riddle was born.

 

 _Oh,_ Harry almost spilled his morning tea. The idea of being a 28 years old man when dear Voldy was born was very amusing. Or confusing. But the most important thing was the sudden tickle of his curiosity, to see how did Voldy looked like when he was fresh out from the oven. So he took his coat and his wand, casting the locating spell.

 

Suddenly being estranged in the 20s wasn’t so bad.

 

* * *

 

 

He found Merope Gaunt (or was it Riddle?) walking slowly, crawling through the London Lower end towards one of the worse orphanage around the area. Since it took him only 3 hours to find Merope, Harry was sure Merope would not given birth till a good week from then.

 

As he saw Merope’s frail and pitiful image, Harry suddenly felt protective. Cursing his hero mentality, Harry watched as Merope watched the orphanage, looked into her hand, patting her swollen belly, and walked back to her semi-house under the bridge. It was a pity Tom Marvolo Riddle came out a bit bitter than most. If only Merope lived to see his son at least reached the age of five, maybe something will be different. At least it seemed like Merope did actually love her unborn child enough to make sure the baby would stay alive after she gave birth.

 

So Harry spent the rest of the week following the woman. Christmas came and went, Harry noticed without interest. He had nobody to celebrate the holiday with. Usually what he did was to enjoy a cup of nice English Breakfast in the café underneath his apartment (they have a good set of English Breakfast ready by 8 a.m. every morning). He also started to become more familiar with the owner of the shop (an old man with yellowing teeth but also possessed some roguish charm, making him ‘handsome’ by the current society’s standard) after coming every opening day for the last one month. And then he would come to the usual roadside, casted confounding charm around himself and watched Merope Gaunt’s daily rituals. Then he went home, bought something and cooked himself a good meal.     

 

By the end of the year, Harry woke up utterly excited and prepared some additional things inside his rucksacks, like blanket and hot water bottle. He could conjure water and heated it with heating charm afterward, and he set to camp near the orphanage, waiting for the showdown of the century: the birth of Voldemort!

 

And… he truly enjoyed it, watching how hard Merope had her time until Tom deigned it was time to relief his mother from pain. “Tom Marvolo Riddle,” she coughed it in her last effort before she gave her last breath.

 

But his blood turned cold when he heard the matron’s voice.

 

“I don’t suppose we can take care of this little runt, no? Looking at his mummy like that, he aint gonna be good looking, nobody will want him, I’d reckon.”

 

“Mrs. Cole!”

 

Harry felt bad for Voldy, not for the first time yet. Tom Marvolo Riddle has no memory of happiness, just like Harry’s own bad childhood. Somehow the image overlapped, and suddenly Harry found himself taking the abandoned baby with his blanket. Mrs. Cole apparently saw it fit to throw the baby near the bin outside the orphanage, near the river, maybe hoping the baby died soon in the harsh cold winter.

 

In the end of the day, Harry Potter found himself a newborn baby to bring home.

 

* * *

 

Harry cursed himself.

 

The baby that was Tom Marvolo Riddle was quite cute until the time he woke up and screamed like he was competing for the loudest siren of the century. Harry quickly tried to hush the baby, hugging it, even have it upside down, but Tom kept crying.

 

Twenty minutes afterward, the owner of the café downstairs came knocking on his door.

 

Cursing his luck, Harry opened it and saw that the owner has a lady beside him. The lady was quite old and motherly. Before they could say anything, Harry sighed exaggeratedly.

 

“Finally! A lady who knows how to be a mother!”

 

Apparently he was very wrong to say that, because Mrs. Hudson (that was her name, the café owner introduced her as the landlady of 221 Baker Street, their neighbour) started to bawl. Finally Harry was told that Mrs. Hudson didn’t get the chance to have a baby since her husband has died in the war before she had a chance to get pregnant. But the miscommunication was settled quickly with baby Tom, who was red and blotchy and wet from his own tears. Harry was then berated by the lady because he apparently neglected the fact that (one) Tom was hungry, (two) Tom has a wet nappy, (three) Tom was cold, (four) Tom’s lack of mother.

 

Harry explained that he just had Tom for the last hour, Tom’s mother died giving birth to Tom, and no, he was not Tom’s father but he was thinking to be one. Mrs. Hudson and the café owner have a different response to that statement. Mrs. Hudson cooed Tom and looked at Harry with a new light; as if suddenly Harry was a decent human and not a monkey. The café owner looked terrified, maybe for his café’s compromised situation. The baby’s wail would disturb the café’s patrons and Harry initially rented the apartment as a bachelor, not a daddy with a newborn son.

 

Harry tried to negotiate the price, haggling quite animatedly with the café owner while Mrs. Hudson took very good care of Tom. When finally Harry Potter (trained to safe every penny he had due to his training at the Dursley’s) has managed to gain an acceptable new rent price, he was surprised to see baby Tom silently enjoying his nap.

 

“You are always welcome to my place. I can help you taking care of Tom.” Mrs. Hudson offered before she went away, “..but make sure you tell me in advance, because I have another baby I am in charge of.”

 

“Oh?” Harry smiled as he cooed the small, and increasingly becoming cuter by minute baby, “Your baby? I have never heard or seen a child that small by this street.”

 

“No, he is not really a baby. I mean, he is a man, but he acts like a baby, so he is a baby.” The lady sighed. “His name is Sherlock Holmes.”

 

Harry didn’t pay much attention to the name but kissed Mrs. Hudson’s palm before the lady went home. He should, though, because soon Sherlock Holmes would be a major part of his and Tom’s life.

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

Little Tom took Harry’s time. All of it.

 

Before Harry knew it, a week has passed. And in those seven days, Harry had no time to actually have a decent sleep at all. Tom seemed to deem it fit to make Harry’s life to be tied around the baby. Once Harry closed his eyes, the baby would cry out loud, either asking for food, nappy change, scratch, amusement or even cuddle. Hard to imagine, but baby Tom was a normal baby who loves to be held by his parents.

 

True, baby Tom was especially cute, even Harry admitted that. When Tom gurgled, Harry squealed like a girl. He knew it was undignified, especially for the hero Boy-Who-Lived and the model auror. If Ron or Kingsley saw what happened to him when baby Tom smiled, Harry would have no face to show in the auror department anymore. But since they were not there, so Harry let himself laughed, smiled, melted by Tom’s cuteness. The baby was already very manipulative even when he was only a month old.

 

But, cuteness can only go so far. And Harry’ stunted interhuman relationship skill was the reason he became the most diligent auror in the decade, thus Harry found himself almost half crazy by the end of day eight. Criminals and Hit Wizards were easier to face, at least most of their fight didn’t involve screaming, tears or puppy eyes. When Mrs. Hudson came around at noon, Harry almost cried when he saw her.

 

“Please, I beg of you, please take Tom for me for an hour or so. I need out.” Harry begged in his most pitiful tone. As much as he was a workaholic, taking care for a baby was something he couldn’t handle. At least his usual works usually has a template he could follow, rules or procedures and stuff; caring for a baby was something that none can ever prepared for. Harry couldn’t guess whether the baby wants diaper or food or cuddle when he suddenly cried as if Harry would drown him in the tub.

 

Mrs. Hudson laughed slightly and took Tom from Harry’s hand. “Go and sleep, you look almost dead to the world.”

 

Harry thanked the woman, and rushed out from the house. He couldn’t let himself be cooped inside the house anymore. He needed a drink, a helper, and a time-turner.

 

So, his first stop was Gringotts, finding that perfect house elf who knows how to be a babysitter.

 

 

* * *

 

When Harry finally backed after two hours buying all the baby stuff for Tom from the Diagon Alley, he stopped in front of the front door for his keys. When some of his smaller stuffs for Tom fell down from the bags, the stuff didn’t fell onto the road, because a quick set of hands caught all of them.

 

“Oh, thank you.” Harry smiled and turned, to see a beggar with Chinese-style round glasses piping what Harry suspected was an opium pipe.

 

“Welcome.” The man smiled and put the stuff back into Harry’s full arms. 

 

“Didn’t know you are new to this _era_.”

 

Harry let himself off guard. “What…?”

 

“Have a nice day.” The man left without saying anything else. Harry froze before deciding that the man might have known something about him. Maybe it was time to be an auror again.

 

But when he saw crying Tom on Mrs. Hudson’s arms, all those thoughts took the backseat while Harry took the baby into his arms. Harry was getting good in handling Tom. He has started to become familiar with the baby’s favourite support pose. True enough, Tom stopped crying once he was comfortable inside Harry’s arms.

 

“Oh, the little Tom missed his father.” Mrs. Hudson smiled gently, cooing the now silent baby. Harry laughed and nudged Tom’s little hands, then waved goodbye and thanked the old lady before he let Tom played with his finger. Once Mrs. Hudson was out of the way, Harry called to the room.

 

“Merrit!”

 

The house elf appeared immediately in front of him. She was the one Harry chosen from Gringotts an hour ago, for she was masterless, had experience with children (but not too experienced in house-elf standard. apparently a house elf can live to their three hundred years, and being a fifty years old house elf was considered as teenager) and can cook very well. Choosing a house elf was a new experience for Harry. He felt really uncomfortable there, watching as one by one the masterless house elf came into the room, parading them and tried to advertise their special abilities (excluding the obviously needed household skills). They would die without the magic of his master, so the process was really important as it was the only way to get a new master. With Gringotts charging an extra-orbitant fee for the selection chance, not many could afford to get a house elf. And sadly, the only one who still knew about the bonding magic rituals were the goblins, so no wizard can bond themselves to any masterless house elf.

 

“Master call Merrit?”

 

Harry smiled. “Yes, this is my place, and you will be helping me taking care of Tom here.” Harry squatted, showing his Tom to Merrit.

 

His Tom. That sounded really comforting, really.

 

“Merrit take care of Master Tom well!” The house elf squalled. “Little Master Tom!”

 

The baby watched the conversation with no interest, and slowly closing his eyes.

 

 

* * *

 

Things got better after that. With Merrit’s help, life became easier by a mile. Harry found a time to sleep properly and still tended Tom as much as he wanted. The baby became cuter and bigger by day, leaving Harry felt like an idiot parental figure that the Japanese called as ‘oyabaka’. Harry admitted that he wanted to have children, and it was the reason Ginny left him. She was too busy with her career as the Magpie’s chaser to have a child. She wanted Harry to stay at home at least for two years if they were going to have a baby. Harry couldn’t make such commitment. That was the end of their engagement.

 

And Harry started to put his attention away from Tom and watched as the day passed. He knew that there would be a second world war. He needed to prepared for it, as well as managing his finances before making sure he and Tom were well fed after all those wars. And somehow, there was an element of Dumbledore vs Grindelwald he needed to take account into as well. Harry wasn’t so ignorant to the fact that he had altered the reality by adopting Tom. So Harry was well aware that he couldn’t rely on his information about the Dark Lord Grindelwald demise from his own era.

 

One morning, when he thought Tom was ready for the real world (and it was getting into spring time anyway, so it wasn’t that cold), Harry took the baby down to the café to enjoy a plate of English Breakfast. The owner of the café (and also his landlord) welcomed him with worried eyes, but Harry assured him about Tom. Tom was being his adorable self as he watched the owner with his baby blue eyes. Harry won, and got his plate of English Breakfast.

 

“May we join you?” The question was so abrupt that Harry dropped his fork; and it was immediately caught by a hand beside him. He looked up to see the beggar, now in better clothes, with a fashionable gentleman by his side.

 

“Hello. Nice to meet you again.” Harry smiled and gestured the gentlemen to join him. “Sure, if you don’t mind my son.”

 

Oh, he was calling Tom his son again. Tom squealed from his baby box. Harry took him out and hushed the baby, softly counting to ten as little Tom closed his eyes slowly and went back to sleep. Harry didn’t see the amused expression on the face’s of the beggar-yesterday-gentleman-today man when he showed that he recognised the beggar from yesterday.

 

“Your son?” The man took a seat and ordered. “One breakfast plate please, and some tea. I thought you were a bachelor. And I see you have trained your son to sleep on the count of ten.”

 

Harry laughed to that. “I was, but then I adopted Tom. My name is Harry Potter.”

 

“Sherlock Holmes. Pleasure. And this is my partner, Doctor…”

 

“John Watson.”

 

Harry raised an eyebrow. “Partner? Are you two a couple?”

 

Dr. Watson coughed hard. “NO! I have a fiancée! Her name is Mary and she is the loveliest woman in the world.”

 

Mr. Holmes snorted while Harry showed his interest. And the conversation started from there. By the end of breakfast, the three of them were talking as if they were best friend for decades. Harry knew it was time for him to go when Tom opened his eyes for the fourth time, and no amount of cuddling would make the baby closed his eyes again.

 

“Well, it’s been a fun time, but I need to return to my flat for Tom.” Harry apologized. “Maybe see you next time, gentlemen?”

 

“Absolutely!” The man—Sherlock Holmes—answered immediately. “In fact, I would be honoured if I can visit your flat as well, Mr. Potter!”

 

Harry stopped before he answered. He wasn’t sure that he could let the man into the flat at the moment, because he didn’t want them to see Merrit by accident. That would be very hard to explain.

 

So, no it is then. “No, I am sorry, but I don’t think guests will appreciate the mess my flat is in right now.” Harry smiled his best smile, just like one he used to keep his subordinate from asking an additional leave day.

 

He never knew that he had made the worst mistake since he entered the era.

 

 

* * *

Oh, Harry did try his best alright. He tried his best to make sure that only people he approved (i.e. the one and only best nanny in the world: Mrs. Hudson) were the only one who could enter his flat. But there was something Harry didn’t put into the calculation, Sherlock Holmes never backed out from a challenge. And the man has made it into a challenge to enter Harry’s flat.

 

At first it was a casual ask of visiting, which Harry politely declined. Then, Mr. Holmes appeared in front of the front door with a swelling stomach, telling Harry he was just in the neighbourhood and urgently needed to use the bathroom. Harry declined again, saying that Mr. Holmes could use his own bathroom, which was only next door at 221b Baker Street. Next was Mr. Holmes suddenly come out from the blue, knocking the door, telling Harry that the buildings they were in were on fire. Harry, whom knew there was no fire going on due to his well made ward, shook Mr. Holmes’ warning as a joke and shut the door on the man’s face.

 

It was then the efforts became something else altogether. Harry woke up to find a muggle spiderman outside his window, trying to peer in. Luckily Harry had his ward intact, and the ward include the shield to make the window dark from the outside (just like the muggle sunlight shield, bless the unspeakable who invented it). Then another one time when a lady, who actually still very much looked like a man with unshed beard knocked on his door, asking for a vacancy as a life-in nanny. When Harry said no and wanted to close the door on his face, Mr. Holmes pleaded that he could do day-in-day-out again. Harry chuckled at that, but still, he couldn’t let the man in.

 

Tom was not amused either. He often woke Harry out with a scream, and more often than not, Harry found Mr. Sherlock Holmes around his flat, trying to snoop in. It was as if Tom became a living Mr. Sherlock Holmes detector. Harry wanted to cry everytime that happened, because making Tom stopped crying was a real hardwork. One time, out of desperation, Harry tried to make Tom sleep by kissing the baby’s nose over and over again, cooing, “Who has a nose? Yes, you are~! You have a nose, my little prince~!” (while, ironically, remembering that nose was something Voldemort didn’t have until his death). It did calm the baby down, though. By the end of the second week, Harry was so tired from it. So when Mr. Holmes actually knocked on his door and appeared in his gentlemanly clothes, Harry rolled his eyes.

 

“May I come in?” Sherlock smirked.

 

“Why?” Harry asked, for the first time.

 

“Well, as a good neighbour, of course I need to make sure you are not a spy for the Germans.”

 

“Really?” Harry snorted. “That’s your reason? Then I will tell you upright, NO.”

 

The man didn’t even move or anything, and kept smiling with his trademark cocky smirk. “I still have other plans to be invited in, you see.”

 

Harry sighed in defeat. “…Yes, you may enter.”

 

Good thing Harry had ordered Merrit to stay invisible unless Harry called her.

 

 

    

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comment please? I need some ideas. Thanks~!


	3. Chapter 3

This is where the plot started to unravel. Thank you for your patience.

Enjoy. Unbetaed.

* * *

Between the time Harry realized he was stuck inside the 1920s and before he got baby Tom, Harry found himself distracting himself with the war and news. Dumbledore and Grindelwald were the figure he focused on, but it was rather hard for Harry to find anything on them outside the publicly provided information. They just freshly graduated from Drumstrang and Hogwarts respectively, thus their contributions to the news of the current era has not started yet. The last thing he knew was that both of them were involved in some kind of politic parties between Britain and Germany.

Between the time Harry realized he was stuck inside the 1920s and before he got baby Tom, Harry found himself distracting himself with the war and news. Dumbledore and Grindelwald were the figure he focused on, but it was rather hard for Harry to find anything on them outside the publicly provided information. They just freshly graduated from Drumstrang and Hogwarts respectively, thus their contributions to the news of the current era has not started yet. The last thing he knew was that both of them were involved in somekind of politic parties between Britain and Germany.

Harry wondered whether the fateful fight that killed Ariana has happened or not.

After he became a single father, Harry had no time to spend on researching on those figures; so he was shocked when he found out that the two men went separate ways; one becoming a Hogwarts professor and the other seemed like gone. Harry noticed that meant that Grindelwald was already the Dark Lord, while Dumbledore most likely have not yet started his small fighter group, The Order of The Phoenix.

But that would be something that happened at least eight years from now, so Harry forced himself to prepare for the future, for Tom's sake.

He found out the news just the next morning he hired Merrit; so while he slowly gave Merrit the duty to take care of his precious Tom, Harry went to enjoy his newfound freedom with casual research over the politics situation. He slowly found out that Grindelwald supported Adolf Hitler, and acted like one of the behind the veil player who controlled the prominent muggle figure. Harry knew from history lesson (not courtesy to Professor Binns, of course, it was Hermione who forced him to read the whole articles on what happened in the muggle world for the last century) that Adolf Hitler is somekind of the muggle version of Dark Lord. It made Harry wondered whether Grindelwald was more ambitious than dear Voldy, because while Voldy only focused in Britain, Grindelwald was systematically destroying Europe.

Smiling at the facts, he patted the baby in his arms. "Maybe you are still better, dear Tom."

Before Harry finally brought Tom out from the flat and ate in the café (and was busied by the Sherlock Holmes invasion), Harry usually went to the Diagon Alley daily to buy newspaper. He couldn't have it delivered to his place since his landlord was already hot on his pants, watching him like a hawk because Tom's loud crying. Harry couldn't risk giving the man another reason to kick him out. At least not until Harry knew it was safe to move into the wizarding communities with Tom in tow.

During one of the morning outings to buy newspaper, Harry found himself looking longingly into the Quidditch store. Since it was slow season, nobody has the excess money to buy a racing broom, so the store was dark and deserted. Harry looked into the display window to find a Comet—the brand of broom that used to be popular before Nimbus or Firebolt came out. Chuckling to himself, but still wishing to buy one, Harry gave himself fifteen minutes of pure enjoyment hawking at the broom.

It was then someone bumped into him quite hard. Harry was startled, but immediately became alert. Many pickpockets happened in those eras. He quickly made sure that he still had his money pouch before looking around.

A man was standing near him, and was smiling. The man looked like the walking advertisement for modern male hairstyle—it was the most noticeable part—golden, wavy and puffy as if it was weightless. The man's blue eyes were striking as well, blue like the sky. All in all, he looked like an angel in muggle advertisement. Harry was stunned for a second.

"My apology." The man talked in a bit of accent, "I am in a hurry."

"It's fine." Harry smiled.

"…By any chance, can you tell me where the nearest bookstore is?" the man asked. Harry nodded, describing the way to that era's version of Flourish and Blotts. The man thanked him and went away. Harry immediately forgot the man; returning to ogle the broom by the window. He then returned to his flat where Tom was waiting.

* * *

Harry read the words slowly to the almost sleeping Tom.

" _There were three brothers travelling together. Upon their journey, they reach a treacherous river. They make a magical bridge over the river. Halfway across the bridge, they meet_ _the personification of Death_ _who is angry for losing three potential victims. He pretends to be impressed by them and grants each a wish as a reward._ _The eldest brother_ _asks for an unbeatable dueling wand, so Death creates the_ _Elder Wand_ _. The_ _middle brother_ _asks for the ability to resurrect the dead. So Death gives him the_ _Resurrection Stone_ _. The_ _youngest brother_ _doesn't trust Death and asks for a way to stop Death from following him, so Death reluctantly gives him his_ _Cloak of Invisibility_ _. Afterwards, the brothers go their separate ways…."_

Harry chuckled when he found that baby Tom was already asleep in his crib. But Harry continued reading the story.

" _..The eldest brother, bragging about his powerful wand, is robbed of it by_ _a man_ _and murdered while he is asleep. The middle brother uses his ability to bring back_ _the woman he loved_ _, who died before he could marry her. However, she is not fully alive and is full of sorrow. He kills himself to join her. As for the youngest brother, Death never manages to find him, as he stays hidden under his Cloak. Many years later, the brother removes his cloak and gives it to_ _his son_ _. Pleased with his achievements, he greets Death as an old friend and chooses to leave with him as equals."*_

Harry closed the book. He knew the story by heart. After all, it was the story about three deathly hallows. And talking about the Hallows, Harry realized that he had his invisibility cloak with him. He wondered how that could happen, because supposedly the said invisibility cloak should be a Potter family heirloom. That meant the current Potter family head and Harry have it. How can a thing be at two different places at the same time? Would it disturb the integrity of the said Hallows, and would it affect the other two Hallows?

In his own era, Harry had dumped the ring inside the Forbidden Forrest and the wand was safely hidden inside Dumbledore's tomb. But Dumbledore was alive, and Harry was sure the Elder Wand was not his as yet. The ring should be still with the despicable Gaunt family. And Harry wasn't sure whether he would be a Potter to inherit the invisibility cloak. So that meant some variables Harry didn't know, and he didn't like the sound of that. To be honest, currently he should be searching how to return himself to the correct era (while dodging Mr. Sherlock Holmes) but he found himself content watching the little baby in the crib sleep.

Maybe he could be an auror, still. Harry wondered, wouldn't it be great if Voldemort was never created, and Thomas Potter took a mentally healthier career (like chef or sumo fighter)? Maybe that was what he should do then. He could make life better for little Tom.

To make life better, that meant he needed to stop war before it started.

He needed to stop war before it started. The fucking world war.

 _Wow_ , suddenly the simple task wasn't looking so easy anymore.

Oh, Harry knew the consequences of playing with time and history and all those stuff Hermione drilled into his head in third year when they used the time turner. But well, the future hadn't happen as yet, and since Harry was already meddling with time, so what is another change? He shrugged off and closed the book, then groaned as his bones crackled when he stretched. He needed to collect more information.

So tomorrow's first stop; library it is.

* * *

Library was not his favourite place to be in. Hermione has been dragging him and Ron too much to the library during their Hogwarts year too much. It made Harry associate the library with a place of silent torture and overload of information. After all why should he stayed in library extracting information from extensive research when he could just tapped Hermione on her shoulder and asked? Hermione was some kind of walking magical Google for all Harry knew.

Now he really regretted his lazy and ignorant attitude to information research skill. Without Hermione around him, Harry felt like he was lost. He didn't even know where to start, to be honest. How to make sure he didn't ask the librarian too much details, or information on books about something that had not yet happened yet?

So Harry found himself standing stiff in front of the library's front; wishing he knew what to do. He looked around, watching as people reading around him, the scent of old books and dusty parchment filled his nose. He might as well spend the whole day standing if not for the sudden tap on his shoulder. Harry turned to see the man he saw yesterday, the one who asked for the way to Flourish and Botts.

"Hey, I recognize you. Do you need help?"

Harry smiled. "Hi. I want to find some information, but I am not sure where to start."

"Why don't you just go straight to the index list on the librarian's desk?"

"What is that?" Harry genuinely felt out of space. The man smiled. He looked like an angel more than an angel could.

"You are new to library, I see." The man chuckled, and Harry recognized the heavy European accent. Evidently the man was not British. "Come and I'll try to help you."

The next moment they were sitting together, the man introduced himself as Gerald (Harry wasn't sure about the spelling though) and he was a scholar from Germany. He was trying to find somekind of literature and treasure (Harry wasn't sure what too) from the Britain's children books. Harry found it interesting, but the man inclined to speak further. Instead he ushered some old tomes on Harry, showing that maybe Harry should start from history section, then continue to the chronological news for the last few years.

Harry thanked the man, and they exchanged some personal information and went on their merry way.

Oh, how Harry wished it has been that simple. When he thought back, Harry had always regretted the fact that he had judged a book by its cover.

* * *

Back to the current time where Harry was busy changing Tom's diaper while the baby clapped his hands, with Sherlock watching them in deep interest (but showed no interest to lend a hand in the process), the door bell rang. Harry, hands full of his little Tom's poo, sighed.

"Can you make yourself useful and open the door, please?"

"Of course, Harry." Sherlock smirked and went to the door. Harry tried to wipe his hand onto the towel, but it was rather tricky. Once he managed to clean his hand and Tom's butt, he put some powder onto the baby's skin and patted the bum.

"I swear little Tom, I will embarrassed you when you bring your lover in the future." Harry smooched his baby on the baby's forehead. "I should limit your milk intake. You smell so bad."

"Harry! A man named Gerald ad his friend are here to see you!" Sherlock shouted from the door. Harry sighed and patted Tom, putting him back into his basket and went out.

"Hi!" He greeted his guest, to find that the angel Gerald have another man beside him. Both of them were standing and smiling like normal human being, but somehow Harry got the feeling that while Gerald was an angel, then the other man was a Satan in disguise.

"Hi Harry." Gerald smiled. "I am sorry to suddenly visit you. This is my dear fellow, James, James Moriarty. He is my politic study partner in university, mind if he come along?"

"Oh, I don't mind." Harry smiled. Sherlock, meanwhile, protested weakly in the background, "…why those people can easily enter while I need to beg before?"

"Hush, you." Harry smiled and swatted Sherlock on the head. The man pouted and left the room to the drawing room, and Harry invited both men to his guest room.

"How may I help you?" Harry asked lightly. "And please wait a moment for tea and refreshment. I live alone with my son, so I need to make my own tea. Be right back in a minute."

"Don't mind us, Mr. Potter." The man named James smiled. Harry didn't trust the smile. His auror instinct was swearing at the man. "Please sit down. We won't take long time."

Harry nodded and sat on the sofa, waiting for the men to started. Gerald smiled like an angel and asked, "What do you feel about pureblood and muggle politics, Mr. Potter?"

Harry's eyes budged when he heard the question. He turned to see that Sherlock was nowhere to be found around them, but he couldn't discount the possibility of the nosey man to eavesdrop on his conversation. He turned to Gerald.

"I think this inappropriate stuff to talk about. I think the statute…"

"I know, Harry." Gerald smiled. "That's why I have cast confidentiality ward around this room. Quite strong, actually. Your ward is very hard and quite new, something I never seen before. Did you spell it yourself?"

Harry unconsciously nodded, while pondering the implications. His ward was definitely new, since it was one of Hermione's and his collaborated invention. No normal wizard should be able to cast another ward inside this new ward, and that was why it became one of the most important finding in Hermione's career as an unspeakable and head of muggle research.

"…Fine. I warn you beforehand, though, Gerald and Mr. Moriarty. If you harm my son, you will not come out of this flat alive." Harry calmly smiled and composed himself into battle mode. His wand was ready beneath his sleeve, ready to strike on a moment's notice.

"Please calm down, Harry." Gerald waved his hand. "We mean no harm. We just want to know where you stand in pureblood and muggle politics. Do you think of wanting to improve our current predicament? I mean, our current wizarding predicament?"

"I don't know what you mean." Harry smiled back, but hardening his mind against any legilimency attack. He started to have stomachache. "By the way, may I ask what your full name is, Gerald?"

"Oh, it's actually Gellert, but the way you call me is so adorable, and that's why I let you call me that." Gerald—no, Gellert smirked. "My full name is Gellert Grindelwald."

Harry's smile hardened. "Well, gentlemen, since I have no idea what you are talking about, then we have nothing to talk about. May I show you the way out?"

"Don't be harsh, Mr. Potter." James suddenly spoke, and his words were like steel. "We can offer you great reward. You may want it, since you just have a son and no income at all."

Harry shook his head. "Why me?"

"You are quite strong, I assume." Gellert smiled. "From your aura and your reading materials… I think you are fairly familiar with the Deathly Hallows?"

Harry smiled back. "Oh, is that the fairytale I read to my son at night? What about it?"

"You have one of them, Mr. Potter." Gellert stopped smiling. "And I need you to, let say,…  _share_  it with me."

"What it has to do with politic?" Harry asked. But James suddenly smiled.

"So you didn't deny that you have one of them, Mr. Potter. Interesting."

"I don't know why you think so. I don't have any idea about what you are talking about." Harry shook his head and wished he had made the tea. He opted to stand instead. "Would you leave now? You are making me uncomfortable."

"I will cut to the case." Gellert suddenly stood, and the height advantage Harry had just a second before disappear. The man was a head taller than Harry. "You are somehow related to the Last Peverell. I know you have one out of the three Hallows and since I like you, I will not take it by force. I offer you to share them with us, and help us built an empire for a better world. Magical  _and_  muggle world. Look around you, Harry, people are lost. They need some guide. They need to be oppressed. They need one leader to show them what to do. This is the nature of muggle and weak wizards. It is our duty to guide them, Harry Potter. You are currently one of the strongest wizard in this world, along with me and Albus. James here is one of the finest mundane specimen with brilliant mind. If you join us, we can make a better world."

Harry shook his head. "This is getting out of hand, Gellert. I don't think I can…"

James cut Harry's words short. "…Come and join us, Potter, and we will swear for you and your son's safety."

Harry turned to the man, watching him sharply. The man was as good as threatening Tom's safety for Harry's agreement.

The room became tense. Harry was thinking how to take down the two men (one which was the former Dark Lord and the other is a very dangerous satanic muggle) when suddenly the guest room door was forced open.

"Harry!" Sherlock entered the room, heaving like he just ran three kilometres in ten minutes. "Why is the door so heavy?"

"Gentlemen." Harry coldly spoke out, "I think its time for you to leave. I will… I will give you my answer in a week. Thank you for the offer."

The two men looked at each other and then nodded at Harry. Hastily they left the flat and onto the road. Harry closed the door behind him and non-verbally used the strongest locking charm he knew. Then he proceeded to get Tom from his crib. His baby was laughing and half naked aside from the cloth diapers, watching him with a smile.

The baby gurgled as Harry swept him into his arms. Then he used his wand to detect any harm or alternation on his ward. It seemed that Gellert left nothing attached to his ward, and Harry sighed in relief. Maybe he should move someplace else. It was getting unsafe for him and his baby.

"…I would say you are somekind of psychic. Are you?"

The question startled Harry, and he turned to see Sherlock Holmes smiling as he sat on the chair comfortably. Harry cursed under his breath and while decided what to do. Should he obliviate the man?

"I can see that the conversation has upset you. You are afraid of Tom's safety… did they threatened your son? They wanted something from you… your power, perhaps? The power to alter mass without trace, the power to move things without touching them, the power to create somekind of invisible barrier around a certain area which momentarily block any audio or smell or any other stimulus to come out from that barrier over a certain time length. I would say you are a very unique type of human being, Harry. Care to explain?"

"I am sorry, Sherlock. It seems I can't explain this to you, and I need to wipe out your memory." Harry smiled sadly. "It was fun to know you."

Sherlock smiled. "Oh, you can affect memory as well? Amazing! But I remind you, don't bother with that. I kept many journals for hidden insurance and I know my head inside out. I will know if you have altered my mind—and that is one of the thing I want to know, and now I know! You are really not from this era, aren't you? Are you even human?"

"Yes, I am a human. I am not biologically different from you." Harry shook his head. "Look, please keep this information to yourself. I don't want to harm you or my son's safety. This interrogation is the last thing I need right now. I still need to obliviate you, Sherlock. I am truly sorry."

And Harry waved his wand toward Sherlock's face.

* * *

TBC.

*The tales of Three Brothers-JK Rowling.

**Author's Note:**

> May or may not be continued. I have a general idea, though. Thanks for reading. 
> 
> Comment?


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